


Breathe Out, So I Can Breathe You In

by flyicarus



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyicarus/pseuds/flyicarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The orphanage has never felt so lonely as in the middle of the night when Steve is gasping for breath and Bucky's trying to calm him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Out, So I Can Breathe You In

Lights out at the orphanage was at least two hours ago, but Bucky’s been lying on the top bunk of the bed in the room he shares with Steve, one arm under his head, the other laying by his side, his fingers picking absently at a loose thread on his blanket. He looks up at the ceiling, thinking about the black eye he got the other day defending Steve, about the family who thought about adopting him three years ago but he refused to go without Steve, thinks about how Steve blushed when he tried to see what he was drawing in his sketchbook today at lunch.

He thinks about Steve a lot, he’s noticed.

Steve stirs in the bed below him, sharply and suddenly, and Bucky’s head turns, catching it immediately. He leans up on one elbow, looking down, trying to see any sign of Steve.

“Steve? You okay, pal?”

He coughs, wheezes, and manages to say, “’m fine, Bucky, go sleep-” before Bucky realizes  _asthma attack_  and  _no you’re not okay_. He scoots over to the edge of the bed, jumps down relatively silently, and turns slightly so that he can bend and look at Steve.

Steve, who clearly can’t breathe at all, who looks afraid and worried and like he wants to be anywhere else but with Bucky looking at him like that. He blinks, carefully slotting his face into carefree, confident.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Rogers. Ain’t nothin’ but a thing, let me get your-”

Bucky’s heart sinks when he realizes that Steve ran out of his medicine just yesterday, and that the orphanage didn’t have enough money to buy him more, won’t until next week at least. He swallows, does the only thing he knows he can do. He nudges Steve forward a little bit, and slides into bed behind him.

He pulls Steve back against him.

"Don't be afraid, Steve," Bucky says, settling back against Steve's pillows, his legs spread with the smaller kid between them. He pulls his knees up, and Steve's hands go automatically to them, clutching at the fabric of his pajama pants as he struggles to breathe. Bucky puts one hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly, and the other hand goes to his chest, smoothing circles onto the trembling flesh beneath the absurdly thin t-shirt.

(He'll have to remember to save up some of his money, whatever little he gets, to buy Steve something warmer.)

"We'll slow this down together," he continues, trying to ignore the wrenching in his heart as Steve's head lolls back onto his shoulder and his back arches with each attempted breath, his chest pressing against Bucky's hand.

"Feel my chest. Feel it, breathing in and out. Breathe like me. Like me.”

Bucky thinks briefly that he’s only fourteen, he shouldn’t be doing something like this, but he banishes the thought the instant it enters his head. There’s no place else he’d rather be. The realization strikes him as something he should probably think is profound, maybe even regret, but he doesn’t. Seems like the most normal thing in the world, and maybe that should worry him too.

“Stay with me. I know it hurts. Be strong, Steve. It'll pass,” he says, his breath hitting Steve’s neck in soft, worried gusts. The hand he has resting on Steve’s shoulder moves up to his hair, brushing it back soothingly. “It'll pass."

"Don't do this to me," he mutters to the air, to the ceiling, to whoever's listening, his voice pleading, "don't take him from me."

"Believe, Steve. Believe that it'll pass. Just wait. Don't be afraid. The air is coming. Believe. You don't have to be afraid. I’m here. It will pass. Here comes the air.”

He’s rambling now, whispering, trying anything to calm Steve down, to convince him that everything’s gonna be alright. It has to be alright. There’s no other option.

“Don't be afraid, Steve,” he continues, trying to suppress the trembling in his voice. “I’m here. I’m right here with you. Feel my chest, breathe with me. We can do it together.”

He tries to let his voice carry his confidence, his faith, and maybe it does, but it’s still trembling and he doesn’t want Steve to hear that. Doesn’t want Steve to hear him weak.

“The air's clearing our lungs. We're the same. We're the same."

Bucky's voice breaks, and he's crying, but he keeps rubbing at Steve's chest, keeps moving with him, and he bites his lip to keep from sobbing, from making noise. He buries his face in the crook of Steve's neck, feeling his skin, trying to calm himself. He has to be strong, has to be calm for Steve, who needs him, has always needed him.

His tears fall onto Steve’s skin, and they’re hot and he thinks maybe they carry his anger and his fear, but he can’t be bothered to wipe them away.

"We're the same," he repeats, drawing in a deep breath, and he can feel Steve starting to calm, starting to be able to breathe, and he's never been more thankful for anything in his entire life.

Steve’s eyes stay closed and eventually he falls asleep, lying back against Bucky’s chest, shifting as if to snuggle closer, and he lets him. He can’t sleep anyway, won’t be able to, not with what almost happened and what he realized about himself.

He keeps whispering to Steve, an endless litany of “I’m here, I promise, I’m here” until the sun rises and the orphanage starts to stir.

 

**Author's Note:**

> faintly inspired by an asthma attack scene in the movie "Signs."


End file.
